


Dragon

by TelWoman



Category: Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-27
Updated: 2011-02-27
Packaged: 2017-10-15 23:44:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/166120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TelWoman/pseuds/TelWoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Klaus thinks about order and chaos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragon

Klaus had always liked churches. The quiet inside a church seemed deeper than in other places, and right now, he was in need of stillness. After six weeks of being continuously on the move and constantly in danger, he felt drained.

In twenty four hours, he would be back in Bonn. Debriefing would take several days. He allowed himself to think beyond that, longing for the solitude of his own flat. If, indeed, he could count on finding his flat empty. That damned thief had a habit of showing up unannounced when he’d been away for weeks and wanted some space to himself. Dorian had no regard for time alone, Klaus considered, and no concept of the healing that could be found in seclusion. Klaus shook his head: _Self indulgent and undisciplined. Damned if I understand how he can live like that._

He himself treasured discipline, and had learned a long time ago to suppress his personal feelings so they would not interfere with his work. Discipline created order; discipline enabled control. Dorian, on the other hand, didn’t school his feelings at all. Happy or sad, angry or thoughtful, loving or lustful, he gave himself wholeheartedly to his own emotions.

Klaus paced slowly down the nave, looking at the architectural details, the stone carving, the paintings of the Stations of the Cross. Reaching the sanctuary steps, he stopped, and looked up.

Behind the altar, a tall stained glass window glowed with the light of the late afternoon sun. The window depicted the legend of St George and the dragon.

Usually Klaus was unmoved by works of art – but he found he could not tear his eyes away from the image above him.

The dragon writhed on its back, fangs bared, claws straining to strike. Its wings and tail filled the lower part of the stained glass panel, scales shining like links of green-bronze armour. Every line of its body spoke of coiled power, the promise of destruction. The dragon’s fiery red eyes were evil, cruel, desperate.

Every fear, every moment of despair and anguish Klaus had ever known was embodied in that dragon. If it was able to rise from the ground, the dragon would unleash a terrible and merciless devastation – just as his own fear and despair and anguish would rise up and consume him if he wasn’t able to control it any more.

Above the dragon towered the figure of St George: winged like an archangel, armoured like a medieval knight, wielding a spear tipped with a golden blade. St George blazed with light. His bright eyes burned with blue fire, his long golden hair swirled like a banner around his shoulders. His fine aquiline features and graceful stance made him look benign, impartial – and yet, the dragon feared him. He had the dragon in his power, and in another moment, he would destroy it.

Klaus heard footsteps padding softly up the aisle, and an elderly priest, robed for the confessional, joined him by the altar.

“You have come to see St George,” the priest said, nodding at the tall window.

Klaus gazed up at the jewel-hued panel. “The dragon… ” Klaus was unable to form his thoughts into words.

The priest smiled at him gently. “All of us have a dragon at our feet. Sometimes we don’t see it, but it is always there, ready to spring up and devour us if we make a false step. That is why we all need a St George, to keep us from harm.” The old man touched Klaus on the arm. “Be safe,” he said, and quietly walked away.

**Author's Note:**

> I found out after writing this piece that St George is the patron of all who fight for righteousness.
> 
> Written 21 February 2011.


End file.
